


Thaw

by Nununununu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Caretaking, Developing Friendships, Don't copy to another site, Families of Choice, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Hope, Learning to Person, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Peggy Carter, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Protective Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:34:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23569162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: At no point does she mention her own aspirations.As the seasons change, prefect Steve slowly starts to get to know Natasha Romanov, the new transfer pupil to Highview.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13
Collections: Gen Freeform Exchange2020





	Thaw

**Author's Note:**

  * For [antoinettetopaz (cherylmarjorieblossom)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherylmarjorieblossom/gifts).



> Boarding school AU; can be read as modern or set in the fairly recent past. Includes mild, non-detailed references to off-screen controlling/overbearing parenting and implications of emotional neglect by Natasha's family.
> 
> Written in a drabble-and-a-half style of 150 words per section. For Antoinettetopaz (cherylmarjorieblossom) :)

It is autumn outside, the trees decked out in oranges, reds and golds outside the windows of the great school hall. A chill wind rattles the glass as the Head introduces the newcomer. The pupils stand in rows under the watchful eyes of the prefects and do not talk.

The new girl, freshly arrived from another country – Russia – stands at the front of the hall, to one side of the dais upon which the Head speaks. Her uniform is impeccable, her hands folded neatly, her stance firm but contained. Her hair – the lone colourful thing about her – pulled back tightly behind her head and her gaze aimed straight ahead.

When she is required to introduce herself, she does so aptly and without noticeable accent. The faint smile that curves her lips in closing is formal; not quite detached.

Steve watches her from the head of the Upper Years, and wonders.

These are things Steve sees:

Natasha Romanov waits until everyone else at her table seats themselves in the refectory, before she too sits. She shows no particular sign of appetite or enthusiasm for the food, serving herself a small portion of porridge from the steaming pot and a few pieces of sliced apple as an accompaniment. Her toast she eats plain afterwards, biting each mouthful precisely, without dropping crumbs.

Her tea is the only part of the meal she seems to have a reaction to – she sips it, pauses, and then drinks again. Given the equanimity of her expression, Steve can’t say why it should draw his attention.

There is a mild hubbub amongst the Lower Years down the other end of the table Steve is responsible for. By the time he has dealt with it, Romanov has finished her meal and is sitting waiting with her hands folded, calm. 

Steve habitually keeps an eye on all new pupils, not merely as a duty due to his position as prefect. He meets with Carter to discuss Romanov after the first two days. Other pupils require his attention also, and Romanov does not seem to require anything. She is silent when not expected to speak, what conversation she provides precise and well-formulated, and she excels at patiently encouraging others to fill in the gaps she leaves.

There are those amongst the Upper Years who already admire her reserve and poise, while a select few believe her aloof. There are many rumours going around regarding her background; the reason for her transfer.

“My family wishes for me to receive a traditional education,” Romanov provides when Carter enquires, “A year in an English boarding school was believed desirable before transferring to a finishing school.”

At no point does she mention her own aspirations.

Steve mentors several underachieving or otherwise troubled Lower Years. Highview is but one section of the boarding school and there is the typical rivalry between Houses. He and Carter break up minor skirmishes, oversee extracurricular activities and provide pastoral care as and when needed, reporting as expected to the Housemistress.

At first Romanov does not appear to possess the drive to pursue an external interest. She bends her head to her studies, applies herself intently to any given task, and answers the small overtures made to her by other pupils without fuss. When asked a personal question, she provides a steady response that subtly dissuades further enquiries.

“Are you enjoying life at Highview?” Steve seeks to learn when he seizes an opportunity to speak to her, “Is there anything you’re wanting for?”

Romanov doesn’t hesitate before giving the appropriate answers.

Steve looks at her and fears this is a façade.

The season turns towards winter and Steve notices this:

Romanov takes to using the gymnasium during her recreational time. She practices a well-rehearsed series of acrobatics without a spotter. When Steve volunteers to act as one or to arrange the services of another Upper Year, she politely accepts.

“Although I wouldn’t want to keep you from your own practice,” There is a shadow in Romanov’s eyes as she says this, Steve is certain. He is sure there is a great depth of emotion there, beyond the surface of all her restraint.

“I’d be honoured to help,” His smile doesn’t seem to win her over, not that he is expecting it. And Steve is certain there is tension in her, as Romanov begins the first impressive leaps that lead herald her routine.

When she finishes, though, her arms held high and back strong and straight, her nod of thanks feels genuine.

“Here.”

It’s winter outside. Snow lines the windowsills, softened by the fire inside. Romanov is one of the few present who doesn’t react to the cold. She is studying in a corner of the Upper Years common room rather than the library, and so he is free to place the cup of tea he has made by her elbow.

“I thought you might like it.”

The look Romanov shoots him is unguarded for a moment so brief Steve almost questions if he sees it.

“You shouldn’t have,” Her tone of surprised gratitude however is perfectly pitched.

“Camomile,” Steve explains, after he has advised a Lower Year on their mathematics and Romanov’s eyelids flutter, just once, as she takes a sip, “I don’t think you like the one served at breakfast, do you.”

“Both are very pleasant,” Romanov returns, her smile fit to flatter any host, and Steve knows he’s misjudged.

“Earl Grey with a slice of lemon,” He tries, when Romanov is undoing her ballet slippers, after practicing for hours in the studio off the gymnasium. Steve has unwrapped his hands from his boxing, wound down and abused his prefects’ privilege slightly by fetching them a hot drink.

This isn’t something he would normally do. But Romanov seems more withdrawn than ever somehow, as if her dancing turns her inwards until she almost can’t find her way out.

Carter had thought him fanciful when Steve had tried to explain, although she had stated Romanov had the “personality of a nesting doll.”

Watching Romanov sip politely at the hot drink, Steve thinks about layers and what lies beneath.

“Reckon you might like a go?” He finds himself gesturing to the punching bag.

“My family would –” Romanov cuts herself off surprisingly, before shaking her head, “I had better not.”

It’s something.

New Year comes and goes, and Natasha comes to join Steve in using the punching bag. She moves far more gracefully than him, incorporating kicks he could never hope to achieve. Her face is flushed when she finishes her workout, breathing hard.

“Not bad,” Steve teases, delighted when she goes so far as to punch his arm.

“Here,” He makes them both hot chocolate afterwards.

“Not bad,” Natasha raises an eyebrow at him once she has sampled a mouthful. They have taken to studying together when Steve is able to, and when Natasha desires the company. She is mingling more with her dorm mates now and, on one occasion, seeks Carter out.

Steve hasn’t failed to notice she doesn’t mention her family anymore. When he asks, she teaches him a little Russian and appears quietly amused at his pronunciation.

She still looks at him as if waiting for the catch.

“Do you like ballet?” Steve enquires when they’re down at the lake one afternoon, mummified in their scarves and hats, Natasha carving graceful circles around him while he wobbles on the ice.

Her skates are fashioned in shining black; his are in red and blue.

Natasha looks at him for a long time, letting him see her consider her answer.

“For a long time, my mother strove for me to become a ballerina,” She turns effortlessly so she is skating backwards as she says this, strands of bright hair loose from her usual tight style, “It would have been a point of contention if I did not share her ambition.”

“That sounds – unpleasant,” Clutching gratefully at her sleeve when she offers it, Steve endeavours not to topple. It’s refreshingly rare for him to find a sport in which he struggles.

“Compliance was preferable to the alternatives,” Natasha says very quietly.

“Here,” Plopping herself down next to him in the little cinema the Upper Years in Highview have fashioned with permission of the Housemistress, Natasha hands Steve a bowl of popcorn, “The snack shop was all out of pie, so you can help me eat this.”

There’s a teasing quirk to the corner of her lips Steve has recently started to see, just as there is good humour in her voice. She’s not so careful – so cautious – these days.

In honesty, nor is Steve.

“I got you an orange juice,” He’s finally worked out her favourite.

“Thanks,” That little quirk becomes a grin, visible before Carter turns the lights down. Their House’s film project starts playing and Steve nudges Natasha teasingly when she appears on the screen.

“Just look at you,” His own role of director had been an enjoyable challenge.

Rolling her eyes, Natasha elbows him back.

Outside, it’s spring.

_Fin._


End file.
